


A Dry Jest

by AnnaCipactli12



Category: DCEU, DCU (Comics), Joker (2019), The Tudors (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-11-28 05:49:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20961500
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaCipactli12/pseuds/AnnaCipactli12
Summary: Joker/DCEU crossover. A bitter jest left a sour taste in the Joker's mouth but not enough to destroy the last ounces of humanity in Bruce Wayne's heart. As the events of the Joker unfold, the little prince of Gotham ponders on what awaits him, feeling that this is just the beginning of a new journey frought w/more danger & madness.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> MAJOR SPOILERS for Joker so if you haven't seen that film, dont read this. You've been warned!

Behind every super hero story there's an older tale. One which lacks morality or any sense of reality because villains as you know happen to be unreliable narrators.

Mary Tudor ran towards her cousin. "Bruce come back!" She was going to kill that boy. Damnation! May God forgive her if the little prince of Gotham was harmed by those clown freaks.

Bess who hadn't stayed put like she told her, ran after Mary. When the two got to the horrific scene, the King's youngest daughter screamed. Mary covered her sister's mouth and pushed her behind a pile of logs and fallen branches. Bess didn't like it. She tried to wrestle out of Mary's strong grip.

"Shh, bad people are still here." Bess didn't need to be told. She wasn't stupid. But as soon as Mary took her hand from Bess' mouth, her resolve to offer a tart retort to Mary died with her bravado.

The clowns were at it again. "Fuck the monarchy!" She spun around and saw many of those rioters heading the opposite way. The cavalry had come just in time; though not in time for their cousin.

The Duke and Duchess of Gotham had died. No tears were shed. The little prince of Gotham was standing instead of kneeling over his dead parents' bodies.

~o~

People tried to wake him up. To get a response from him. As far as he could remember he was a somber child. _No,_ he corrected. _I had playmates but they were because their fathers were looking for special favors from my father._

His petulant cousin Bess and older cousin headstrong Mary shook him several times. Bess hugged him. He didn't return the hug.

~o~

**_You make me feel like I will be okay but I must remain awake because one day you'll die. Everyone dies. _**He wrote. His journal finished, he threw it into the fire place. He watched it be reduced to cinders.

He wasn't going to confess to a priest or his distant cousin, the King. He was fine where he was, reading the Illiad, the Mirror of the Soul written by the King of France's sister, the haughty and terrible harridan –as Mary called her- Marguerite of Navarre.

Mary worked very hard to fill the shoes his mother's death had left. She had been surrogate mother to Bess and Edward before their father married for the sixth and –what many would hope be the- final time. She even got her father through her stepmother to bring the crown prince to Wayne Manor but all her efforts were fruitless.

Bruce only smiled when everyone's backs were turned, curious to try different kinds of smiles to see which ones were more adequate. Prince Edward found out about it and told him he should do it more.

"I don't see the reason why." Bruce said. Before his cousin could reply, the Prince's uncles came. Alfred gave him an apologetic look.

Bruce did not want to see the buffoon and his serious counterpart. But rarely did anyone get to have what they wanted. Man was a political animal, Aristotle pointed out. The only way he could survive this perilous new journey was by becoming the perfect courtier and for that he had to learn from the best.

After the Earl of Hertford and Baron Sudeley offered their condolences, they told their golden nephew they had a special present for them waiting outside. Bruce resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't opt out from partaking in the Prince's joy; he wasn't given a chance and he was the prince. No sane person refused him anything.

"Isn't it wonderful, Bruce? Father brought it from Spain, surely he did, am I right uncles?"

Both of his uncles nodded. Edward helped him up while Thomas praised his good handling of the reins. The Prince didn't want to wait. He told his uncles he wanted to go for a hunt. They complied. Three hours later, everyone came back with a prized boar that Thomas had helped his nephew kill.

At the sight of the dead boar, Alfred knew what to do. He ordered the kitchen staff to get it ready for dinner. Once inside, everyone celebrated Prince Edward's triumph. Everyone but Bruce. He thought he had been convincing enough but one minor detail he'd overlooked wasn't by the younger of the Seymour brothers.

The Baron of Sudeley whispered something on the Earl of Hertford's ear. "Got it." Edward Seymour turned to his nephew. "Let's go to the parlor, Alfred promised us some good entertainment. Right Alfred?"

"The best for His Highness." Alfred said with a big enough smile to convince the golden prince. "Be gentle with him." Alfred told the Baron before he and the rest went to the parlor where musicians and other forms of entertainment were waiting for their star guest.

Thomas promised the boy's treasured butler he would. "Gotham is a violent city isn't it?"

Bruce shrugged. "Not as big as London. The biggest cities are the most violent ones. Paris was nearly destroyed by rioters nearly two centuries ago." Bruce said, quoting what he learned from the history books in his father's study. Now his study.

Thomas smiled kindly at him. The observant green-blue eyes of Bruce saw the sadness hidden in that smile. "I don't need your pity." Bruce said bluntly. There was a cold darkness within him. It was always there, melted away by his parents' love and affection. Now those safety nets. He had nothing and no one to keep him in check.

_There's Alfred,_ his subconscious reminded him. _Alfred will always be there with you._  
Would he though? Everyone was expendable, fate had made it so. One day, fate would take Alfred away from him and what he'd have?

"You aren't alone in this world, Bruce." Thomas said daringly. He offered his hand to the little prince of Gotham but the tiny Duke didn't take it so Thomas started walking. Bruce followed him. When the two reached his private chambers, Thomas wasn't surprised by the somber sight.

Thomas has been a lonely kid growing up. Edward was the rising star at court and the role model everyone in his family looked up to. Even after his father's indiscretion with his first wife, he was still everyone's favorite. A paragon of virtue and unparalleled ambition whose cleverness made it possible for him to achieve all of his life's goals.

But beneath that ambition was a coldness. He was the only one who saw it. Thomas made it his life mission to prove to his parents that he was just as good. His father saw it, so did Jane, Elizabeth and Dorothy, but his mother and John remained on his brother's camp.

His mother especially had nothing but good things to say of her oldest son whom she always presumed to her acquaintances, high and lowborn, adding that besides Jane, he was the only one of her offspring who inherited the good Wentworth looks.

For a while, Thomas had no one to play with except for Dorothy but then she focused on girl things, leaving him alone again. But it didn't last. He quickly found out he was good at sports and had a natural charm that his brother didn't. That got him noticed and before long, he was popular.

Bruce Wayne was not that far behind. With the right guidance, he could exploit his strengths and discover that there was a lot the world had to offer and he the world.

"When I was your age, I had a cat. My sisters hated her because she was slow. My mom would kick her in the rear end. 'Get off your butt and catch that mouse.' The cat was more interested in sleeping and eating. At times she'd go days without eating then eat like a pig. I was the only one who had the patience. It took me two years but afterwards, no mice ever showed up in Wolf Hall."

"That's impossible." Bruce said, sitting down in the tall chair had father had ordered for him after he turned seven. It was still uncomfortable but unlike before, he didn't let his discomfort show. "Mice are always drawn to danger. The more you push against them, the more they push back." Bruce said, quoting what his father said when one of the maids came up with a _brilliant_ solution to deal with the rodent situation in their summer home in Yorkshire.

"That's not always true, Bruce. If you rely on the right protector, you don't have to look over your shoulder again."

"No one can protect anyone." Bruce said with a cutting tone. His empty eyes sent a chill down Thomas' spine. Yet he was not going to give up. If needs be, he'd come until he got gray hairs so this boy could be what he was, a boy.

"Is that your favorite toy?" Thomas pointed to the Roman centurion figurine. Bruce nodded. "You have the whole set or just this one?"

"I have more of them but I am too old to play with them anymore." Thomas smiled a sad smile. He took a gilded figurine with a silver bow and golden arrow from his coat. Bruce blinked at it. Thomas asked if he wanted it. Bruce nodded. Thomas gave it to him. "It's Orion. The Hunter."

"Artemis' lover. Alfred and I used to play all the time, I'd be Artemis, the goddess telling Orion to run faster than Atlanta and hunt what she commanded him. He's one of my favorite Greek heroes."

"He's a good one to admire but a better one is Odysseus. You want to know why?" Bruce shook his head.

"Everyone else reached too high, but Odysseus didn't."

"But he made a fool of himself when he didn't give thanks to Poseidon for the victory over the Trojans."

"He was too proud and too much pride is always a dangerous thing. But he still got over all of the obstacles the gods sent his way, didn't he? And it was all thanks to this" he pointed to his head then moved his finger to his heart, "and this. Every hero had super strength, had some divine protection but Odysseus had nothing but his wits about him and that is what makes him great."

"It wasn't enough to protect his mother. If he had a Pegasus or his father was the almighty Zeus, he would have gotten to Ithaca in time to save his wife from her pretenders and prevent his mother from killing herself."

"We do what we can with what we have. It's the burden of every hero and that's the lesson here. Anyone can be a hero simply by moving forward. Keep moving forward." Thomas said, hoping that his words would stay with the little prince of Gotham.

* * *

No smiles or other reactions to be found in the little prince of Gotham. Henry VIII demanded that his cousin be brought to court. He had caught one of his higher subjects speak ill of the new Duke of Gotham.

"Everyone's favorite orphan hides in his books. His nose is always buried in a treatise or something his cousins brought for him."

He wasn't going to permit such foul behavior. Kathryn Parr, always there to calm him when no one else could, advised him against it. "The boy needs time to heal. It'd be better if he stays where he is."

"I want that son of damnation who did this."

"Everyone is on the lookout for this fiend. We will find him in no time." Kathryn assured him. She mentally prayed that Providence would bring the royal army closer to finding him. The man was a menace. The movement he had sparked was worse than the pilgrimage of grace. Just thinking of all the people who'd been killed besides the Waynes gave her goosebumps.

Henry didn't tell his wife there was an ulterior motive for his anger other than genuine worry that someone had caused the murder of one of his kin.

Thomas Wayne was one of his strongest supporters during his quest for an annulment. He was the first courtier to openly confess to him that he had moral reservations but would end up doing his bidding because blood was thicker than water.

Henry didn't need to.

Unbeknownst to him, Kathryn and the Evangelical faction in England were behind Wayne's latest schemes to send money abroad to their preachers and other influential leaders whose mission was to purify Christendom.

What Henry and Kathryn said to each other about this Joker fellow was true however. He needed to be caught and executed. He was a threat to the social order. He was an evil force of nature who had robbed the king's cousin of his beloved parents and the reformists of their wealthiest sponsor. He was evil. Plain and simple.

He was content with murder and other evil acts his impious followers did in his name.

"Captain Kingston and Charles sent two of their best men. They almost had him but he turned the tables on them. Just like that." Henry snapped his fingers. "What sort of man moves an entire group of people to turn against their anointed king?"

"An evil one. He will pay for what he's done. For now, the most important thing is for Gotham to see that their new Duke is there, well and strong."

"Of course." Henry said but he didn't believe in his words. The reports he was sent pointed to a broken child who preferred the company of books and his figurines than real people.


	2. Keep being you

_ **"No one knows what it's like to be the bad man** _  
_ **to be the sad man** _  
_ **behind blue eyes** _  
_ **and no one knows what it's like to be hated** _  
_ **to be a failure** _  
_ **to tell only lies** _  
_ **but my dreams they are this empty** _  
_ **as my conscience seems to be ...** _  
_ **My love is vengeance that is never free** _  
_ **No one knows what it's like to feel these feelings like I do** _  
_ **and I blame you, you, you** _  
_ **No one bites back as hard on their anger** _  
_ **None of my pain can show through** _  
_ **but my dreams they are this empty** _  
_ **as my consecience seems to be ...** _  
_ **My love is vengeance that is never free ..."** _  
_ **~Behind Blue Eyes (Limp Bizkit version)** _

_ **“Instead of helping an entire group, help an entire person but you won’t which is why I am allowed to flourish.” –The Lunatic Ramblings of the mad Jester known as “Joker” as recorded by Marie Carmen Kane.** _

Bruce completed the puzzle, putting the last two pieces up and below, where they clearly belong. Mary congratulated him. “That has to be a new record. Alfred tells me you’re getting better at falconry. Soon, you can go on hunts with me and your cousins.”

“I don’t like going on long trips.”

“These won’t be long. Hunts are fast and with our combined minds, we will finish in no time. You will be begging us for more.”

“I hardly think I will.” Bruce said bluntly, regretting having said that at the apprehensive look his cousin gave him. “Alfred said I should not be afraid to tell the truth and neither did my father when he lived.”

“Bruce, you are a child. You shouldn’t feel the need to grow up so fast.” Mary told him. Bruce didn’t listen. He hardly listened to her anymore. Thomas and Martha Wayne rarely accepted an invitation from the King to bring their most prized possession to court. Whenever she paid them a visit at Wayne Manor, she made sure that both of his parents weren’t there.

Few people saw the best side of Thomas Wayne. She was one of those few. Mary Tudor could understand why Thomas didn’t let his son spend too much time at court. It was a vicious place filled with vicious people. Even the saintliest of people could be corrupted by such environment. But to keep him cope up like this was a bit extreme.

Alfred said it was for his protection. Mary argued with the butler every time she visited. The man was extremely patient with everyone minus her. She wasn’t intimidated by his sarcasm and abrasiveness cloaked in refinement. Mary possessed that too and she could be just as intimidating. She always left behind her personal physician and chaplain to make certain that Alfred would stay put, like a good servant.

It was probably a sin to feel this way, but Mary had long come to terms with the harsh truth that she and her siblings were too different to truly be considered family. Bruce on the other hand, she felt close to.

Seeing him like this pained her. It was like someone had driven a knife through her chest.

“Bruce you are a child. You have your whole life ahead of you. Why not let the past die. I know it’s trite and people have told you this countless times but it is the truth.”

“I do not need to have fun. Your father no longer goes outside to hunt like he used to.”

“Bruce you know better than to use that kind of reasoning with me. I am not one of your maids you can torture with your philosophical diatribes.” Mary said, putting her hands on her hips.

It was an interesting pose. One that signaled security and confidence. _But it is an illusion. Everything she does and says is an allusion. Deep down, she’s scared._

It had taken a tragedy for the little prince of Gotham to notice these truths which were self-evident to anyone with two eyes and a functional brain.

“Don’t be this person, Bruce. You are not cold-hearted. Laugh, dance, run like you used to. Remember when you were five and you showed me your wooden sword? No one would play with you but me and Bess. You chased Susan around the public square in Gotham central. Kids thought you were crazy until I winked at you and you looked at them back and said I am Orion, masked hunter. They all cheered for you. That’s who you are.”

_It’s not._ Bruce held his tongue. Mary’s eyes sparkled with hope. Bruce wasn’t going to take it away from her.

Bruce Wayne saw through his cousin’s insecurities. Mary Tudor was good at pretending but her half-sister was better. Mary was fearless but deep down she was still a woman who took out her frustrations at others, primarily her late mother’s rivals.

Bruce cannot blame her. Had he gone through the same obstacles and forced to go through the same hoops she took, he’d act the same way.

“Just half an hour. I promise.”

“Alright.”

The hunt lasted longer than she promised but he didn’t complain. He was happy to be back inside with Alfred, away from the smiling faces.

~o~

"Your cousin Bess is coming over next week. She says in her letter that Mary won't be far behind. You two spent a lot of time together in the past."

"That was the past, Alfred. I don't have time. I hope you send her a reply. Make something up."

"Bruce, they're the King's daughters and your cousins."

"Bess was never interested in being my friend."

"Things change. People change. If you give her the chance, you'll see how fun she can be. She's closer to your age than your cousin Mary and if she comes, other younglings will probably come as well." Alfred said. "It will do you good. You can't shut yourself from the rest of the world."

“Kids your age should be playing with other kids. That is what you were going to say. You’re so easy to read. Everyone is. It’s like reading a book you read more than twice. It gets boring after a while.” 

“But you enjoyed it didn’t you? Doesn’t matter if you know the ending, as long as you can get to enjoy it again.” Alfred pointed out. He patted his young charge’s back. “People are not like books. You can read them easily, you’ve always been an intuitive young man but they can’t be written about or studied. Chroniclers and philosophers make it seem that way but they were more invested in proving a point or changing the world than having human interaction.”

“Like me?”

“No, no, nothing like you. Master Bruce, you are still young. Things seem bleak now but tomorrow is a new day.” Alfred said, sitting in front of him. “His Majesty sent you presents. Why don’t you open them?”

“Henry VIII thinks he can buy me like he did my father.”

Alfred sighed. He stood up. “You are angry now but you don’t have to besmirch your father’s memory by behaving this way.” With that, he left Bruce. Once again Bruce Wayne was alone.

* * *

Moriska Sofia Dominguez demanded to see her daughter. “In here, you don’t get to make demands. You should be more concerned for the welfare of this nation. Your nation. How long has it been since your last visit to Spain? Five, two months?”

“I have never-“

“Don’t. Lie.” Edward Seymour said icily. Next to him was Sir Francis Bryan who smirked at the scared wrench. The Earl of Hertford grew frustrated with her whimpers. He slammed his fist on the cold metal table. It was the first of its kind and a sign of things to come.

“I swear to you, I don’t know-“

“Cry us a river, sweet cakes. We know all about your extra-curricular activities. Your proclivities for odd men, namely those that use the name of God in vain.” Sir Francis cut in.

“No, I am a true Christian. I go to Church every Sunday like a good Christian.” She began to stutter, at each sentence she shook her head rapidly. They had to believe her. She was innocent in all of this. Sure, she knew of Joker before he became Joker but she rarely talked to him. Yet here she was, questioned like she was one of his henchmen.

“Y-you have to believe me. I know nothing! We talked once or twice but th-that is it.”

Edward wasn’t buying it. He told Francis to show the passenger log. Her name appeared on the list from three months ago. “Why did you travel to Spain?”

“I-I did-did not. I was going to but di-didn’t because m-my mother … she got so sick but she sent me a letter before she died. Do not come. She told me so I remained here for my daughter."

Edward gave her a sardonic smile. "No one here believes you except you. You are a good liar, I will give you that much credit but dirty urchins like you are only good for one thing and that is to serve. So serve. Be a good subject and tell us where is Arthur Fleck."

"I do not know!" 

Sir Francis Bryan sighed. "Too bad, one confession and you would have been out with a juicy job, working as a chambermaid of Her Majesty but you get what you deserve."

"No! You cannot leave me here." Sir Francis and the Earl of Hertford didn't pay her any heed. Their backs already turned, they continued to ingore her. The last things she heard from them was their commands to Master Kingston. "Increase security. If you catch any whiff of Spanish espionage or one Spanish word coming out of her mouth, tell us immediately. His Majesty's patience for these jesters has ran out."

* * *

"Did Mary tell you Jane Grey is coming to visit you? She is realy mad she has to ride on the same carriage as Mary." Elizabeth commented in a casual tone to her cousin.  
  
"Is that such a bad thing?" Bruce asked, knowing it was a question that was as pointless as their company.  
  
"Well, how do you call a girl who is called by everyone the savior of the true faith and whose father has continuously blocked her mother from setting her straight. It's delusion of the worst kind and she has her head too high up her arse to know it."

That last bit of dry wit from his royal cousin, made his lips tremble. "That is good, I suppose. Will they come to the third alms celebration?"

Bess shrugged her shoulders. His tone unnerved her but she did not show it. She had come to terms with what Bruce was becoming. Unlike Mary, she did not try to change him except when his bleakness became too much for her to bear. 

"I suppose," she responded in a similar tone to his but unlike him, her words were accompanied by a smile -something that now seemed foreign to him. "Why do you ask?"

"I do not want another alms celebration. Everyone will be celebrating the passing of my parents as if that is enough to forget what happened. They go to heaven so no one has to worry about Jonathan Chill and the other clowns who gunned them down and left many other orphans."

"That is not how you should see it as." Bess said. She was taken aback by his cynicism. This was one of those times where she would have preferred Jane Grey's company over Bruce. "You really do not want to say something? They were the greatest contributors of hospitals and education centers. Everyone will be expecting you to say something."

Bruce dropped the Orion figurine Lord Sudeley had given him. "Why?"

Bess raised an eyebrow. "Why? You are really asking me that? Bruce, you can't be like this. I am sorry for what has happened to you but if you continue like this, you're going to spiral down into a sadness of your own doing and nobody is going to dig you out of it."

"Maybe that is what I need. Death is the finality of everything. Someone, I do not remember who, wrote it. He was right."

Bess sighed. She stood up and knelt next to Bruce. Decorum be damned. She wrapped her arms around him. Bruce did not push her away like he did her older half-sibling. From the doorway, Alfred watched, feeling thankful that there was still that bit of humanity left in young Master Wayne.

* * *

Bruce kept replaying the scene in his head over and over again. Mary was running towards them. She tried to wrestle him away from the crowd but she wasn’t successful. Mary shouted “Stop!” many times but even in her furor, with all of her strength used against the assailant, she cannot prevent the unpreventable.

No one knew how it felt except the person who was experiencing tragedy. Mary did not witness her mother’s death. Bad as it was, it cannot compare to what Bruce faces. He tries to run away but he cannot move.

_It’s inescapable. You are alone and you’ll never escape from this night. It will haunt you for the rest of your life._ A cold voice says. Bruce -No. He doesn’t respond to that name anymore- does not fight it.

There is a dangerous awareness creeping in. Instead of standing back, he takes a step forward. Each time, he’s close to the precipice. The void is filled with warmth. He lets himself be embraced by it until there’s nothing left except darkness.

Bruce was a boy who could process many thoughts at once. He saw his hopes and dreams as well as his nightmares play out while he was doing adult stuff that was expected of him as the new Duke of Gotham.

“You mustn’t be besides yourself with worry, Your Grace. We will look after your interests as your parents would have wanted and as loyal subjects of your cousin, the King.” Bruce did not dispute the man’s words. He nodded and watched them go. It was the third week of mourning. One week since they had arrested the last known accomplice of the mad jester popularly known as Joker.

Numbly, Bruce nodded to everyone else until there was no one left to give him useless condolences. Alfred berated him for acting the way he did. “What way?”

“Do not play dumb with me, Bruce. Everyone can see right through you. You’re not that clever like you’d like others to think you are. If what you want is to create a court of fools and sycophants, no one is stopping you but don’t come crying when you are old enough to realize you’ve played yourself for a fool.”

For the first time in weeks, Bruce broke down in tears. Deep down, he was still a frightened little boy.

He should hate Alfred for disarming him. Alfred just stood there, patient as usual. Others would have worshipped the ground he walked on. Not him. Alfred Pennyworth knew this boy better than everyone –including his parents. No amount of iciness or attempts to convince others he’d grown indifferent could make Alfred back away from Bruce.

He was going to stay with Bruce until the bitter end. Nothing was going to change that. If he had to be this blunt to make him cry, so be it. Bruce was a good person and still a child and as long as there was still breath in his body, Alfred was going to see that he wasn’t drive over the edge or taken advantage by the dastardly lot that surrounded his father.


	3. Haunted

** _2 weeks after the Gotham Riots ..._   
**

The man who had been known as Arthur Fleck smiled fondly at the path of destruction he’d left behind. Blood everywhere. ‘And they call me crazy?’ Everyone holding a sword in the service of His Majesty was a patriot, a true Christian, devoted to protecting the realm and the godly church he was the head of. He, a nobody with nothing but his wits about him, was a criminal. He sharpened his claws and went about his business in the White Stag cantina. Without his make-up, he looked like any other commoner.

The only thing that would give him away now was if he took down his cowl, revealing his green hair. He ordered a pint of ale. He took advantage of people’s indifference to watch his surroundings.

The young couple in the table behind him spoke in hushed tones. Everyone here was loud so even those speaking in hushes, were higher than they intended. The crude Cornish accent from the woman and the Northern accent told Joker everything he needed to know about them. He formed a mental image of them. As they exited the tavern, his gaze followed them. He softly chuckled. He was correct in his assessment.

Just then, the king's soldiers barged in. They asked to see the owner of this _fine_ establishment. "I am his brother-in-law." The girl's father said. They didn't believe him. He and the girl were arrested. She managed to escape. _Poor thing_. She almost made it except for one little birdie that made her trip.

"No! Please! I am innocent. We did nothing wrong so help us God-" She was silenced by one of them who struck her across the face. 

Joker chortled. Oh what a day. What a day!

He continued walking. They were hot on his trail. He'd be found. He was certain of that. But for how long would they contain him? That was the golden sovereign question.

There was a sick attraction Arthur Fleck had towards the lost hope of Catholic England. He tried to get rid of it but even as Joker, it clung unto him, reminding him that his past wasn’t yet done with him.

Arthur Fleck always longed to be part of a group. Whatever group, it didn’t matter, as long as he felt like he was part of something special.

Mary Tudor understood that. She befriended him, defended him against the bullies but she too abandoned him.

“If a man can’t have a past, he can’t have a future.” He thought out loud. “From now on,” he continued, “if I am going to have a past, it is going to be whatever I decide it to be.” He knelt, touched the dying animal’s face then, with one quick move, broke his neck.

_There are more than two sides to every story. _Death can no longer catch me because a man with no past has no future, therefore I live on as the god of mischief.

He wiped the blood of his hands with a tissue he discarded afterwards. Night was fast approaching. He was no longer bothered by the cold weather or the deadly silence of the dark forest.

The shadows suited him. Darkness restored his vitality, strengthened his purpose and rid him of all impurities. Light, through the people he interacted with, was a painful reminder of his eternal purpose.

“Through chaos, I thrive. Through pain, I make thee reborn.” Joker cackled.

Chaos was a clean slate form which he could create only for his creation to be destroyed. It was absolutely poetic but also meaningless. Nothing mattered except the truths one miserably clung to. And it just happened that his truth far outweighed everyone else’s which made him perfectly suited for the job of jester.

His cackling scared off many animals, including the predators whose heads either turned away or bowed down when he approached them. Who was this man? Was he even a man? The likes of this entity had never been witnessed by these dark forest critters.

Better leave him alone, they decided.

One thought however of his old life still lingered and it refused to go away. The red haired bar maid had made it resurface. For the next three days, Joker overpowered it with images of pain and destruction. Every action the elites took, breeded more discontent which brought him more admirers. For those, he swayed them with promises of chaos and then said farewell by drawing a smile on their faces with their blood and the blood of their victims.

* * *

Mary looked over Bruce's sketchbook. It went against her promise but she didn't care. She was tired of playing nice with Bruce. Alfred was not doing him any favors, enabling his bad behavior. She had to see what he was hiding from the rest of the world. She brought her hand to her mouth, hiding her gasp.

Bruce had always been an introvert but this went far beyond anything she had seen in him before.

_Martha Wayne's smile widened. Bruce beckoned her to come forward to show her his drawing. "It is wonderful. You did it all by yourself?" Bruce nodded. A shy smile graced his porcelain skin. _

_His mother's smile didn't last. It faded away as soon as Mary made her presence known. _She remembered as it was yesterday. May God have mercy on her soul but this was one time she didn't hold back on her pride.

Bruce always preferred her company over his mother's. But he was far too astute to be blunt about it. Bruce loved his mother. There was no question about it, but she was always invested in fundraisers and charity functions. His parents hardly had any time for him. The only time he saw them, was to ask about his progress or take him with them to important events. Naturally, the older he got, he more he sought the company of someone who'd always be there. 

Mary and Alfred became his surrogate parents. While the two didn't like each other, they put up with one another for his sake. 

_Martha greeted the King's daughter. "I am sorry, I didn't see you there, my lady. When did you grace us with your presence?" _

_Mary could see past Martha's amicable tone. She wasn't fooling Catherine of Aragon's daughter. "A few hours but hearing your arrival, I did not wish to take the spotlight. Bruce, did you show your mother the miniature you did with Master Holbien?" _

_Martha was surprised at this. "What miniature?" She turned to her son. "Bruce, you worked with Master Holbien the Younger?"_

_Bruce nodded. Eager to show off his latest accomplishment to his mother who was a renowned religious and art matron, he showed her his work. "Bruce, this is magnificent." She exclaimed._

That had been the last time she had seen him genuinely happy. Less than an hour later, Thomas Wayne had arrived with her half-sister Bess to tell them that the King had prepared a special play that would be showed on the Gotham Jubilee Theater.

Run, you fool. She wished she could turn back time and warn everyone of the impending doom. As much as she hated Bruce's parents, her love for him was greater. She'd rather they live than have him living this miserable existence.

Bruce, you are not like this. She closed the sketchbook and went to the guest room where her ladies still were. Upon seeing her, they asked what was wrong. Mary asked all of them except for Susan to leave. Susan had been with her since she was a child. She was the only one left she could trust. 

"And are you certain that these were Bruce's drawings?" Susan asked, her arched eyebrows showing her skepticism. 

Mary smirked. "Who else, Susan? He is becoming like his father. No, not him." Mary quickly corrected herself. For all his megalomania, Thomas wasn't a dark character. "I don't know what to do. When I see him, I don't see Bruce anymore, I see ... someone else."

Susan was at a loss of words. "Maybe, you are wrong." She suggested. "Perhaps this is his way of getting through this terrible experience. As soon as they apprehend this Joker fellow, he will see that justice has been done and he will put this terrible episode behind him."

"I wish I had your optimism but I fear the worst for my cousin." Mary said.

**~o~**

The sun was setting and Bruce was nowhere to be found. Mary blamed this on his butler. She was besides herself with worry. If Alfred opened his mouth to say one more sarcastic thing, she she'd punch the living daylights out of him.

Bess said nothing. _Patience is a virtue_ -she thought. _A virtue my maiden sister should feel humbled by._ Wise women learned through books and by practicing feminine virtue rather than being a literal maiden with no decorum.

"Pardon my intrusion but Master Wayne trained his son well."

"I'm sure he did." Mary crossed her arms against her chest. Her dark grey eyes pierced his.

Alfred thanked the heavens divine providence had crossed Martha Kane and Thomas Wayne's paths. Even so, the bond between Mary and young Master Bruce was still too strong. "My fair lady, your cousin is a resourceful boy. If word got out he is missing the entire country would explode."

"Perhaps that is what is needed to stop this madness." Mary retorted.

"I am sure he will be found." Alfred said. "We need only time."

Mary's tart reply, pointing out Bruce's overprotective upbringing, knifed his optimism. Yet his stoicism remained. Lady Mary had a talent for making others go mad. He supposed it was the end result of inheriting the worst traits of both royal bloodlines. In all his years of military service, he had seen about everything but this young woman was something else entirely. Even the saintliest folks would lose their patience. She was a harridan whose sob story made others feel guilty. Not him. His mental fortitude enabled him to hold on to his patience, keeping his back turned on any ounce of sympathy or guilt he might feel for this harridan.

"Alfred is right. Cooler heads must prevail. Bruce learned from the best." Bess intervened. "He will use that knowledge to get back home. We must not lose hope." Complimenting her sister and appealing to the maternal instinct she had developed for their cousin, Bess managed to calm the beast down.

**~o~**

"Are you going to stand there all night?" A little girl with dark brown hair asked. She had weird eyes.

They made her seem cat-like. "Who asked you for your opinion?" Bruce asked. His tone was brusque. Usually when people heard his father speak him thus they backed away. Not Selina Kyle. She wasn't about to get bossed around by this spoilt brat.

"Ease up, kid. I'm trying to help but if you'd rather wallow up in self pity and wait for the night bandits to come and take you for a wild ride ..."

"I do not need your pity."

"Fine," the girl huffed. "Suit yourself."

"No. No. I accept your help." Seli a rolled up her eyes.

"What?"

"Men. Get 'em when they're young before they become pricks." She said. "Listen. It gets dangerous here at these hours. You're not going to get far wearing this."

"Dangerous? How do you mean dangerous?"

"You really need to get out more, Your Grace. This is your domain after all." She said. "Come. Let's get you out of those peacock cloathes and make you look like one of us. Not that you do not with that look on your face."

Bruce scowled. His father wouldn't stand for this. _He's not here though is he?_ He mentally yelled at his subconscious to leave him alone but it kept pestering him. _You want to be alone when you already are._ He was a mess.   
"I didn't get your name." He said to his new 'friend.'

"I didn't give it. No offense, Your Grace but I don't give things freely."

"What do you want?"

She chuckled.   
"Jesus Christ almighty kid." She said, her laughter ending abruptly when she looked at Bruce whose face remained unreadable. "Lighten up, will you? Fucking rich people." _Fucking rich people._ That's what the people in clown masks and make up were screaming during the riots. For a brief second, the reminiscing of that terrible night made him lower his defenses. It lasted long enough for Selina to take notice. They said nothing for the duration of their voyage. When they reached her cabin, just outside the city. "Welcome to my humble abode." She said merrily as she led him inside.

"You didn't have to do this." Bruce said. "But I'm thankful."

"Whatever. This is a one time thing." Bruce promised he wouldn't say a thing. They knew that if everyone found out about her act of charity she'd become a pariah, especially with Joker still on the loose.

Bruce had looked a piece of broken mirror Selina had in her pocket. She let him borrow it after she helped him get dressed in 'normal' clothes. Bruce was shocked by how different he looked. Selina made a sign with her fingers that told him he looked much better.

"Your big bird butler will probably throw them or give them to charity to the scraps downstairs."

"That is not a nice thing to say. Everyone in Wayne manor works hard and is thanked for their service. My mother always encouraged me to give more to them."

"And did you?" Selina questioned. Bruce nodded. "The rumors on Cat's alley were true then. Old friend of mine went to one of the schools she built. He said she treated him like one of their own. You got her good heart though mind you, in this crazy world, it's better if you took after your old man. No offence." Bruce wasn't offended. He gave her a smile. The first genuine smile he gave in months.

"My father was a magnate, I do not have his head for business."

"Do not sell yourself short. You are his son. There isn't a Wayne who never went the extra mile."

Bruce opened his mouth to reply but closed it when Selina stopped. They had finally arrived. "You want me to knock or you want to wait for the royal escort?" Bruce walked ahead. Two guards were there. At first they did not recognize. They told him and Selina to go away until he showed them the medallion with the W sign in the middle that had belonged to his father. Their eyes widened. "Forgive us, Your Grace-" Bruce waved his hand at them dismissively, told them apologies weren't necessary. As the gates opened he turned to Selina, inviting her in. Selina rolled her eyes. "Still haven't learned anything, have you kid? Go and reunite with your big bird butler and your spoiled cousins, I have myself to look after." Bruce felt a little hurt she had turned his offer down.

"I understand."

"It is nothing personal, kid. Just remember what I said. Lips sealed." She said. Bruce nodded. He waited until she disappeared from view. The guards asked him who she was. "No one." He answered. Another nobody they won't care. _After all, Gotham's golden boy is safe. Who cares about another street rat?_  
The experience helped Bruce come out of his shell. He kept his secret. Almost. He told Bruce about who helped him. Alfred was glad to learn that from Bruce and more so because it was helping him see the world with new eyes. He was no longer the reserved man who refused to see anyone. The darkness was still there. Alfred was aware of that but wilfully ignored it. His master was still young. He'll get through it, turning this into a distant memory.

* * *

Mary asked Bruce if he had encountered any trouble on his way home. Bruce shook his head. "I do not want to jinx it but Bess and I talked to the Queen. She wants to have all the family together for the new year."

Bruce said nothing.

"I thought you'd love that. You always enjoyed Kathryn's company and Jane Grey will be there and I know you love debating her." Mary said.

"Yes, I do." Bruce said, feeling nothing. He always loved showing off his debating skills. It made him feel special. The thought of being the center of attention meant he would have people begging for his company but now, all that seemed so shallow.

When everyone rereated to their private chambers, Bruce asked Alfred to stay behind. "What can I do for you Master Bruce?"

"Do you think, I can speak to the King so he can let me stay here?"

"You can but I doubt he will listen. He is enthralled with his wife and you know how your cousin is when he is enchanted by his wife."

_Yes._ He was all too aware of how loving the King was. One after the other. _His love knows no bounds_. Bruce pitied the new queen._ If she is a true Christian, she will be begging for the Lord's mercy to deliver her from this cruel life so her head won't be separated from the rest of her body._

"Why not give it a try? It will be a few weeks. If you feel it too much, the two of us can have a special night afterwards." Alfred offered.

Bruce gave him a small smile. "I like that. You never lose hope for me, do you?" 

"Never." 


End file.
